


all that we can do with this emotion

by torchsong (brella)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Art School, F/M, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brella/pseuds/torchsong
Summary: "You should come by my life modeling class sometime!" she had said cheerfully to him only the day before, under the ginkgo tree on the east side of campus, the spot where the two of them regularly meet up now to study.





	all that we can do with this emotion

**Author's Note:**

> For Sportsfest 2018 Bonus Round 1: Time and Place.
> 
> Prompt:  
> TIME: five minutes after class starts  
> PLACE: Yachi's life modeling class

The rain had come from nowhere. Hitoka is only half-aware of it as it beats a steady rhythm against the curtained windows; what she is more aware of—so aware of, actually, that it feels like she's about to die from the clarity of it, but then, feeling like she's going to die is not exactly new—is this: the figure at the center of the classroom, penned in by paint-dappled easels and concentrating students; the thighs of the figure at the center of the classroom, lean with muscle; the head and the face of the figure at the center of the classroom; Hinata Shouyou, naked, at the center of the classroom. 

He has waved to her no less than five times since she walked in, or, well, opened the door to walk in and then went completely rigid at the sight of him, naked, at the center of the classroom. Calm as you please! As though he has done this a hundred times! Has he done this a hundred times? It wouldn't surprise her. Hinata is good-looking and confident and friendly and literally nothing has ever embarrassed him, maybe, probably, she's pretty sure. As she is thinking about things that may have the power to embarrass Hinata, he catches her staring at his thigh and waves again, wearing a look of pure excitement, as though they are long-parted friends who've just run into each other on the street, against all odds.

Hitoka clenches her charcoal until her hand is shaking all over the canvas. Hinata's thighs are very nice, like, objectively. He plays volleyball, after all; that probably comes with the territory—she has seen him jump at  _least_  fifty feet. Well, maybe forty. No, well, maybe, like—ten. Anyway, this is perfectly natural. So why does it feel like she's blushing so hard her head will explode? 

"You should come by my life modeling class sometime!" she had said cheerfully to him only the day before, under the ginkgo tree on the east side of campus, the spot where the two of them regularly meet up now to study. (Hinata is not great at studying, but Hitoka believes in him—he's only in general studies right now, but what he lacks in diligence he makes up for in sheer, bullheaded tenacity, and also he gets an extremely cute look on his face when he's gotten something right and she congratulates him for it.) 

"Life modeling?" He had looked entranced just by the sound of the words, though Hitoka had been fairly sure he did not know what they meant.

"Mm!" Hitoka had chirped with a brisk nod. "You said you wanted to try drawing, right? I find it's really helpful to start out drawing from, you know, life! Because you can look at what you want to draw for a really long time, and it doesn't move or anything, and you can sort of feel your way around the—form, you know?" 

"I don't!" Hinata had declared with a thumbs up. "But that sounds super fun, Yacchan! I'll come!" 

That had been the first time he had called her Yacchan.  _Yacchan_ —isn't that a cute nickname? A cute nickname for  _her_? Yacchan! She had said it aloud to herself, softly, when she'd gotten back to her dorm that night, and had giggled behind one hand. Then she had begun to wonder if this meant she was supposed to come up with a nickname for him in return, and had flown into a panic—she's no good at nicknames; she's never been any good at nicknames! And then she had stayed up until 2 AM, trying to think of a nickname for Hinata. 

And now it is 4:05 PM, and Hinata is—Hinata—is  _everywhere_. Hitoka realizes that while she had never particularly wondered what Hinata looked like, um,  _nude_ , she does not feel taken aback seeing it in the flesh (eek!), as though she has seen it many times, in another life, maybe, when the mere sight of a single dark mole just above the first curve of his left butt cheek did not hold the power to nearly send her into conniptions. 

She feels a raging desire to flip her easel over in one fell motion and demand to know who had asked him to do this; which horrible, cruel being had chosen to personally attack her in this manner. She is highly suspicious of Fujimura-chan, who has always derived great joy from seeing her suffer—not in a mean way, more in a, "you sure seem to like that short guy from the volleyball club, don't you, Yachi-chan" way; a sort of "I can tell from the look on your face that you're thinking about his fluffy red hair again, Yachi-chan" way. Hinata really does have such fluffy hair. And so many muscles; has she mentioned? Like, where has he been hiding them? Her mouth is so dry. She's absolutely going to die; this is almost certainly a symptom of an impending heart attack. What will her mother say? Will she be all right? She's always too busy to cook breakfast—or dinner—will she starve? Will her mother starve because Hinata's thighs are so horribly, horribly nice?! 

Deep breaths, Hitoka. Count to... a number. Hinata's pose is almost artful, she thinks, eyes roving over the slopes of his body; he's craned his neck so that his face is inclined toward the curtains on the windows, and one leg is raised, heel against the edge of the stool they'd given him, and his elbow is braced against it; the other leg dangles toward the floor. He has very small, neat toes. 

He waves at her,  _again_ , and his legs open up a bit when he does. Hitoka almost eats her charcoal. 

"Ah, Hinata-kun, could you try not to move around so much?" Tonegawa-senpai politely asks.  _A tall order_ , Hitoka thinks, and wonders how much Hinata would rather be bouncing off the walls of the gymnasium with his volleyball friends right about now. "It's tricky to draw a moving target, is all." 

Hinata salutes her, disrupting his entire pose. Several of Hitoka's classmates stifle groans. "Roger!" 

He returns to it quickly and seamlessly enough, however, and Hitoka confesses herself to be impressed. As the rain begins to come down harder, she draws in a thin breath and settles her eyes on the crown of Hinata's head, lifting her hand to the canvas. He does not wave at her again, but when he catches her eye, she sees him go the faintest shade of pink. 

That's strange, she thinks. Maybe it's too warm? Maybe someone should get him some water? The last thing she wants is for Hinata to contract heat stroke in the middle of October because she's too dead set on drawing his knee properly to recognize the warning signs. 

Well. Maybe. It is, she thinks with a wobbly, private smile, steadying her hand, a pretty all right knee.


End file.
